Rest and Reflect
by Kiyoshi.Takeshi.Raiden
Summary: Or in other words, Rock N' Rolla Extended/Rebooted. Read it and you should see what I mean. I do hope you enjoy. Pairings are Archy/Johnny and brief instances of One Two/Handsome Bob. Reviews are loved and appreciated!
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **There seem to be a lack of Archy/Johnny fics in this fandom, so I thought I would take a stab at it. Just a warning for this particular chapter, it's the only chapter that's going to be in first person (that I've planned so far anyway), the rest will alternate between third-person limited of Johnny and Archy's POV, where appropriate. I know it's usually not recommended to alternate perspectives so much in a story, but I do hope you all don't mind. I just want to bring out the emotions I hope for readers to feel from each chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This is my first story under this penname—I have another one that I have been using since 2003, but if you want to know more about the story behind that, please check in my profile, as I do not want to take up more space than necessary here.

By the way, I do appreciate constructive criticism as it helps me to create a better story to entertain you all with, so I would appreciate any feedback you can! This is also my first time writing such a long first-person...I usually avoid doing first-person POV because it's definitely not my forte, but I hope I did a decent job.

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters or the original plot of the film belongs to me, though if it did, there would have been actual slash going on between Archy and Johnny, as well as One-Two and Handsome Bob. There's a chance that some OCs will pop up in this fiction—if you recognize someone you _don't _recognize from the film, then it's more than likely of my creation—those I lay claim to, of course.

**Warnings: **Tone is going to be mostly bittersweet/borderline angsty, I suppose. There's slash here, so if you don't like it you should probably find another fanfic to read because this fic will be riddled with it. There may be a sex scene or two later on and all that, but we'll see how this pans out—I can't always seem to control my imagination. So just in case, that's why the rating is as it is, not to mention it's also that way to address how much language this fiction is going to be littered with, haha.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_People still ask the question._

_What's a RocknRolla?_

_Well in case you've forgotten, I'll tell you again, though I don't much like repeating myself._

_At this point though I guess I don't see too much harm in it. Things like that seem to be of less consequence as one gets older—or maybe it's because I'm closer to the finish than the starting line._

_You might be wondering what I'm talking about. _

_Well, it's simple._

_I've become a rather old bastard, as Johnny likes to put it; not in an insulting way of course, he knows better than to do that. Besides, he's got a few years on him himself; not that he's really learned a thing or two—still the same pain in the ass he's always been._

_Johnny. Johnny Quid. _

_Lenny Cole's boy, or rather his ex's boy, as that good-for-nothing son of a bitch used to put it. Just as well, the old bastard doesn't deserve to be remembered as Johnny's father, or anything remotely relative. Johnny may have lived a screwed up life, but he's as bright as they come. He just had to have that sorry fucker for a stepfather and that's the only place he went wrong. So as you can see, none of it was his bloody fault to begin with, he just needed someone to push him the right direction. After all, my Johnny's bright. Unfortunately, fate had dealt him Lenny. Probably a mistake on fate's part, because Lenny's a terrible fucking card to have been dealt to anybody. _

_That's right, I just called him __my__ Johnny-boy, and yes, that __is__ what I mean. _

_I ain't got the mind to hide it. No one would dare challenge me anyhow, not while I've still got power in my backhand. The "Archy slap," as they call it. You might've 'eard of it._

_Johnny and I have been together a long time—known each other even before the little bugger was old enough to warm my bed; an' no, I wasn't one of them perverted bastards that had 'is eyes on some jailbait, it just happened that way. Not that I really need to defend myself to the likes of you._

_I've known Johnny since he was just a little brat, no older than about four or five, and even then he was a li'l devil. I was twenty-nine or thirty when I first met John; I had already been working with Lenny for years by then. The old prick had given me work and gotten me off the streets in my teens, of which I was quite grateful at the time. I used to respect the man, I regretfully admit, but back then Lenny wasn't going senile and his late wife hadn't passed yet, so things were still peachy. _

_I'll never understand what Johnny's poor mother saw in the bastard, or in Johnny's biological father, who was supposedly no better and left the open spot for Lenny to fill up in the first place. It was like a cliché from a bad gangster flick—she was way too sweet and much too kind and stuck with the likes of Lenny Cole. After she passed, poor Johnny didn't have a chance. I did the best I could to be everything for him that Lenny wasn't, but back then I couldn't completely stand up for Johnny because I was so fucking loyal to Lenny. If only I could have seen the future and known that he would feed me to the vultures later or that he would shoot Johnny, being the sorry, cowardly fucker he was. No, I had to be Lenny's loyal fucking lapdog, as Johnny used to call me, still sometimes calls me when he's try'na fight, without the expletive of course—that one's my variation._

_He says he doesn't blame me for those times, says he admired that about me then, says he still does now, but it doesn't matter much because it doesn't change the fact that I had always failed Johnny and 'ave been try'na make up for it ever since. When I went and drowned Lenny it was more for Johnny than it had been for myself, though I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't feel even the slightest bit o' joy from it, and I even went so far as to fetch that blasted paintin' from that cheeky Russian—fuckin' annoying bastard, really. It wasn't enough to relieve him of one limb, he had to go and make me saw off two; and I __do__ dislike complicated scenarios, especially when the solution is usually quite simple. _

_Then again, this only proves that no one is as smart as Johnny, though I'll admit I'll never quite understand his obsession with that painting, but so long as it keeps 'im happy then I could bloody care less about what fascinates him—it just can't be something that'll bring him harm. That I __won't__ allow._

_Now, where was I?_

_Bloody 'ell, I must be finally losin' it a little bit; never thought I'd say it, but I must be getting' a bit old to forget what it was I was sayin'. Once I start talkin' about Johnny I tend to get a little lost; I start forgetting which story I've told and which I've yet to tell—usually Johnny's the one runnin' 'is mouth, but right now he's sleepin' right next to me and I've been watchin' his peaceful expression for a couple o' hours now, reminicin' as I wait. It's 11:45 in the mornin', so he should be getting' up soon. No matter how early or how late he gets to bed he always manages to wake up at noon. It doesn't matter; in out line of work, and especially at our age, there's no real rush. I'm always up b'fore him, but I don't mind, I just occasionally run my fingers across his cheek and brush a strand of what's left of his hair outta 'is face, watchin' him. Gone is his rugged yet youthful appearance, and it reminds me I'm no prince charming anymore myself, which also reminds me that I'm twenty-five years older than Johnny, and much closer to the end of life's travels than he is. _

_In fact, these last few days I've been regrettin' not having trained another, younger man to be Johnny's right hand—not that Johnny's treated me less than a superior, but that's not the point. The point is, Johnny's never truly been on his own—even during that period o' time during Lenny's reign, Johnny may have been fine and did whatever the hell he wanted to, but that was because he knew I was always close by, if not right behind 'im. I say it's only lately where I've been thinkin' of this, but in actuality it's an old idea that's only recently resurfaced._

_It's an argument Johnny and I had once, a long, long time ago. A fight I should've won, but didn't because I went against common sense and gave into Johnny—I was always givin' in to Johnny. The boy is more spoiled than he knows, or maybe he does know, after all my boy is sharp. In my defense, it has always been almost impossible for me to resist his pouty lips and childish reasoning—he didn't much take to the idea of having a "sibling" or "belong" to somebody else, not that it took much to convince me against either idea. I never did quite like sharing my things._

_My sleepin' beauty stirs next to me as I press my lips to his forehead. Hah. Sleeping beauty? Years ago I would have found a way to slap m'self for sayin' that. Being with Johnny has turned me a romantic—gettin' old has made me a sap._

_I can't help but smile a li'l as I watch Johnny roll over and press his backside against my chest, stretching his arms an' legs out forward before turning his head over his shoulder to look at me, all slow-like, eyes still half-closed and a lazy smile on 'is face._

"Well 'ello Archy," _he says with that endearin' drawl of his._

_I slide an arm under his head and the other around his waist, pressing him tighter against me as I take a brief glance at the clock before looking back down at him again. Twelve o'clock on the nose—he never strays from his pattern. I feel the corners of my lips twitch involuntarily. Johnny's chucklin'._

"Yer a chipper one this mornin', aren't yeh, Arch?"

"I suppose I am," _I says_. "Good mornin', John."

_He's brushin' his lips lightly against my chin an' I'm lowerin' my head to capture his mouth with mine. My heart still will skip a beat when I'm with John like this, all intimate-like, though you can be sure I'll take a hit from a bullet before I admit that out loud, 'specially to Johnny of all people. As much as I am fond of 'im I would never let him have the satisfaction of such knowledge, knowledge of which he is sure to take to exaggerated proportions. Then again, maybe someday I will. Of course, he probably already knows—bloody brilliant, my Johnny. _

_Mm. There's that burn in my chest, I've felt it for the last few days now, but I haven't yet told Johnny. I don't want him to worry, that's my job._

"Say, you a'right, Arch?" _There's confusion in those beautiful eyes. Bollocks. I wonder when I started losing my poise._

"I'm fine, Johnny," _I tell him. He doesn't seem convinced._

"Well...all right then, Arch. If you says so."

_He's decided to play along then. I move the arm around his waist and cup my hand around his cheek, stroking it softly as I press my lips gently against his forehead. That's a good boy, Johnny._

_He's turnin' around to face me. He's eying me more carefully now, I can tell. He only gets that far away look when he's deeply concentrated or high, and I know it's not the latter because Johnny hasn't lit up in __years__; just the occasional cigarette since he turned twenty-six and rolled fresh out o' rehab. I remember how proud of 'im I was then and how happy I felt when he told me quietly in the car that he had done it for me just as much as if not more than for his own self. He told me that just out o' Turbo's earshot, he was drivin', and that was probably for the best at that time, 'specially sicne with Lenny gone I had more time to think about certain things and had begun to struggle with thoughts and emotions I thought had been developing. In reality, I knew most of those feelings had already been there for quite some time—maybe not the whole time, but at least since Johnny had left his teens and entered his twenties, just a few years into his pursuit of fame, women, drugs, and rock n' roll._

_That reminds me, I've gotten rather far away from my initial point, haven't I? I apologize, that is rather unlike me—and would y'look at that, I've gone and apologized too. Will wonders never cease?_

_I'd better say what I want to say quickly, before I forget again or before Johnny-boy says somethin' himself, whichever comes first. From the looks o' it, looks like it's goin' to be the second, so let's get on with this quickly before that happens, eh?_

_Right. So what exactly does it mean to be a RocknRolla? _

_Contrary to what you may have 'eard or what you've probably been told, it's not about the drugs, booze, or the women—and it's not about the fame or the fortune either. We all like a taste of the high life._

_Some, the prestige._

"Say, Arch..."

_Damnit, and there he goes. Let's see if I can keep it together before he starts whinin' and all that. Now, where was I...right. The drugs._

_Some live for the substances. Others are constantly on the prowl for a good wank, the glitz, or the fuckin' paparazzi try'na shove themselves up their asses. This was the life my Johnny had, but that's all nothing. No, a real RocknRolla, now that's different._

_Why?_

_Because a real RocknRolla is beyond the little schoolboy dreams and is makin' a real fuckin' difference._

"Arrrchyyy..." _Johnny is drawling out my name long and slow, the way he's always done when he wants my attention._

"What'cha thinkin' so hard about in there?"

_Looks like I can't put him off any longer._

"Nothing," _I says to him. He doesn't seem to buy it._

"If you say so."

"I do," _I say, though I'm surprised he's not makin' much of a fuss today, he must be tired. Funny enough, so am I, I'm just now realizin'._

"Well," _he says, stretching his body out a bit, but still looking at me. _"You 'bout ready to get the day started? I was thinkin' of maybe payin' a visit to the Wild Bunch, shake them ol' timers in their boots a li'l bit. How 'bout it, eh, Arch?"

_I can't help but 'ave a li'l chuckle at that. Same Johnny, no matter how old he gets. Same cheeky, lovable—_

"I love you," _I says to him suddenly. He's lookin' at me surprised, or maybe more like I've finally lost a marble or two, an' I can't blame him. Maybe I have._

"Loves yous too," _he says to me. I can see the muscles on his face twitchin' a li'l here and there because he probably doesn't know what kind of expression to make. Can't say I'd know myself if this situation were reversed; we're not shy about things, but we don't have sudden bursting declarations either. Can't say I know what came over me just now anyways, just that I felt I needed to say it._

"Hey Arch, you feelin' a'right?" _he's askin' much softer this time, meaning he's worried, so I'd better answer him proper and see to it that he doesn't._

"Right as rain, dove," _I says to him._

"Archy..." _ He's not buyin' it, and of course he's not buyin' it. There's that awful pain in my chest again and I'm sure I'm doing a rather lousy job at seeming "fine." _

_He's got himself propped up a little now, eying me with all the concern of a flustered mother hen. Oh, for fuck's sake..._

"Yeh tired, Arch?" _he asks me. _"Yeh look a bit wiped out, if I do says so m'self," _he says_. "Why don'y yeh try goin' back t'sleep? Maybe you'll feel better when yeh get up, an if not, we can bother them lot another day, eh, Arch? Whad'ya say?"

"I think I'm likin' that idea," _I says to him. And it's the honest truth. I'm getting pretty tired, and the pain in my chest ain't disappearin'. _

"A'right then," _Johnny says. He's layin' back down, not takin' his eyes off me. _"Y'go back to sleep then. I'll be waitin' fer ya right 'ere when you wake up, a'right, Arch?"

_I nod at him. My eyes feel a bit heavy now. In fact, I feel like a ton o' fuckin' bricks is weighing me down, not to mention that burnin' feels like it's fuckin' burnin' through my chest...and I don't get why I'm so __tired__ when I was fine but a minute ago—oh. Y'know when I think about it, I remember someone tellin' me once that there will come a time in your life where you'll just __know__, and you won't know why or how you know for sure, but that you'd understand when you get there. I think I may be havin' somethin' of a revelation, like I'm seein' my hands for the first time or somethin'. And Johnny. What about Johnny, then? I shoulda fuckin' done for 'im when I could 'ave so that I wouldn't feel regrets about it now._

"Archy...?" _Johnny's voice sounds distant, like it's a thousand miles o' way, but that can't be right because he's right fuckin' here, so he must be whisperin'._

"I'm a'right, John," _I says to him. _"G'night, Johnny."

_That takes the fuckin' wind out o' me, but that's a'right because I said it to 'im. I said what I needed to say to put his mind at rest, never mind the fact that Johnny's a bright one, fuckin' brilliant and all the rest..._

_Rest. Rest and reflect. I read that mantra on some memorial plaque once; I found it somewhere in nature in one o' the places where I took Johnny when he was still jus' a li'l tyke, an' though he's always been a li'l devil he wasn't always so difficult to manage. Back then it was easy to take him 'round places because Johnny's mum hadn't passed on yet and Johnny hadn't yet learned how to have a mouth from Lenny. Those words I found were engraved on some placard pasted on some park bench—y'know the kind where people dedicate some place in the memory of so and so, an' I'd be lyin' if I said I remember who it was for or how long the person had lived. All I can remember is them three words and how they made me feel; how I felt a little chill inside me that didn't feel one way or the other about it, bad or good. An' since I never knew how to feel about the words or knew what the author could've possibly meant—was it a play on words? Rest and reflect on the bench? A message to the deceased? I don't know. All I know is that those words 'ave stayed with me ever since and I'd done forgot about them until now. Seems appropriate though, I'll admit._

_Rest and reflect._

_Still don't know if I really understand it's meanin', though I think maybe now I could probably take more of a guess at it. Maybe I should've asked Johnny—cheeky brat always did love him some riddles._

"G'night, Uncle Arch." _Johnny's voice is a distraction from my thoughts. _

_Uncle__ Arch. He hasn't called me that in quite some time. I've missed it. I'm glad to hear it again._

_Now he's gone and pressed his lips to mine and tellin' me to stop dallying and get me some o' that good ol' shut-eye. _

_I'm sorry, John. I don't want to tear my eyes away, but I can't seem to keep my eyes open any longer and that pain in my chest is gettin' to be quite unbearable. _

"I'll be right 'ere waitin' fer ya when yeh get up," _he says. _"I promise." _I know. _

_Goodbye, Johnny. Take care o' yourself._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So what did you guys think? Good, I hope? Not quite sure how long or short this fic is going to be, but it was an idea that struck me a couple of days ago and caused a series of daydreams vivid enough that I could write it all down.

The idea was actually inspired by the bench scene, which was a real description—I actually did find a dedication plaque on some park bench on one of my walks. I've been walking around this one park for exercise recently and I've always been meaning to read the plaque on this one park bench, but I either always forget or there's always someone sitting there so I didn't get the chance to read it until earlier this week. Anyway, after I read it the words "rest and reflect," which was at the very bottom of the dedication, just kind of stayed with me and this entire fanfic just kind of formulated from there, which is kind of funny because I had actually been looking for inspiration to write an X-Men: First Class fanfic, but for some reason the idea seemed more appropriate for this fandom.

Anyways, I'm going to stop rambling here before my ranting and raving gets to be as long as this chapter itself, and I must say this is probably the longest prologue I've ever written in my life, almost a good six pages, and it was even more than that before I typed it out because I didn't have access to a computer right away and I had spent all day yesterday handwriting the whole thing. But yes, I hope to see you all soon next chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading this. The ideas area all ready, I just need to write them down quickly before I lose all the clear images in my mind, so wish me luck!


	2. I: The End of a Generation

**Author's Note: **Aaand we're back! Everything you need to know as far as warnings and the disclaimer can be found in the prologue, if you'd like to take a look. If not, let's get on with this work of fiction, shall we?

* * *

><p><strong>The End of a Generation<strong>

The funeral is a quiet one. It had been arranged quickly, despite the sudden announcement. It is open casket, and although Archy didn't have many friends, he also hadn't made many enemies either, and those that he did have knew better than to show their faces to this private affair. Most had a grudging sense of respect for the man and that was enough to keep them in line, even after his death—Archy had that kind of effect on people. Those that were stupid enough to try something simply didn't because they knew that they wouldn't stand a chance against those on the guest list. Most especially not against Johnny, who was the star of the show that night, aside from Archy of course. Johnny Quid wasn't the youthful and robust terror he used to be, but he was still not a force to be reckoned with for sure.

One day the time will come where the current system of order will go and crumble down and replace the current era of RocknRollas with trashy thugs and gangsters who will trade away class, honor codes, and respect for the lesser values of fear, lust, and greed—but not today. Although, Archy's passing does mark the beginning of the end for such a generation, because Johnny knows, as well as everyone else in the room probably knows, that the first and last real RocknRolla of the age is and was Archy, and without any properly trained replacements this is probably going to be the case for a very long time, perhaps even permanently, as Johnny doubts there is a chance anyone will ever be born to be just like Archy. Archy was just one in a million. Johnny has tried, and he is probably the closest to the idea, but even he knows he is only a mere shade in comparison to what Archy was, what Archy has accomplished in his lifetime.

Johnny supposes he's to blame for that.

A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts and Johnny turns around to face a familiar friend, one that he had met even before his junkie years, and had solidified a bond with openly after the death of Lenny Cole. Johnny can feel the corners of his lips twitch upward into a small, boyish curl, one he had made often in his younger years.

"Well 'ello there, good ol' One Two," Archy says with the same lazy drawl he's always had. "Glad ta see yeh could make an appearance."

"Oh of course, Johnny," says One Two. "Of course. You know we wouldn't miss somethin' like this."

Johnny nods. "I take it you brought Handsome Bob along with you then, eh? That bloke always is the life of the party, great fun to have around."

One Two chuckles softly at this and tilts his head back slightly. "Yeh, he's over there, makin' a fool of himself as usual, with Mumbles and the rest of the gang."

"Oh yeh?" Johnny says as he looks in the direction One Two had motioned to. "Yeh, there them lot are, I see 'em."

"Y'think y'might want to walk over there with me, then?" One Two asks. "I was just about to go to them myself, but I thought I'd come and see how you were doin'."

"Sure, I don't see why not," Johnny says with a shrug. "Could use a li'l distraction."

He follows One Two to the group of older men known as the Wild Bunch, most of them familiar faces to Johnny with only a few he doesn't recognize. The men open up the circle to make room for One Two and Johnny. The murmur of greetings and sympathies come quickly.

"Evenin' there, Johnny."

"You're lookin' well there, Johnny. Sorry for your loss."

"Keep that chin up, Johnny. I know it can't be easy, mate."

"Good to see you, ol' Johnny-boy."

One after another they come and Johnny merely responds to each with either a nod from the head or a "thank you," to show that he appreciates their thoughts. He smiles when Handsome Bob gives him a full-on hug rather than just a pat on the back or a handshake. He was always quite the affectionate one.

"I was shocked when I heard the news," says Handsome Bob. "I had One Two clock me one, just to be sure."

Johnny chuckles softly at the look Handsome Bob gives One Two, commanding the man to back up his story, which Johnny doesn't doubt is true. One Two smiles and shakes his head slightly in amusement.

"And that's the truth," he says.

"I'm really sorry it happened, Johnny," Handsome Bob says, looking at Johnny again. "How're you feelin'? You doin' all right?"

"M'right as rain, Bob," says Johnny, smile wavering only slightly. "Nothin' to worry about."

"Well if you need something, you know you've got us," Handsome Bob says, and Johnny can't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy when Handsome Bob wraps an arm around One Two's waist and squeezes himself close and looks up to exchange glances, intimately in a way Johnny can't anymore with the person that he loved the most; still loves the most.

However he quickly pushes those thoughts from his mind, as he knows that the display of affection before him is more out of natural habit than from ill intentions to rile up unnecessary emotions; Johnny understands because he remembers what it was like with Archy.

So Johnny stands there and continues the conversation with One Two, Handsome Bob, and the others well into the night until the viewing is over and most of the group has left, turned in for the night and set to return for the actual burial the next morning. Johnny takes a minute to press a last gentle kiss on Archy's cool forehead and lips before the casket is finally closed for good, and the only people left around by the end of it are Handsome Bob and One Two, who quietly waiting outside the room until Johnny is finished.

When Johnny is ready they all go outside for a smoke before they part ways. Johnny lights up a cigarette and asks the two men a question that sparks some conversation.

"Y'ever think about which one of yeh's gon' die first?" Johnny asks, and he watches One Two and Handsome Bob exchange glances.

"No, Johnny," says One Two. "Don't know about Handsome Bob here, but I can't say that I have."

"Can't say that I have either, Johnny," Handsome Bob says quickly.

"Right, well I suppose not," Johnny says thoughtfully as he takes a drag out of his cigarette and blows out the smoke. "I don't suppose I would have either, if Archy and I had been closer in years like yous twos."

When no one else spoke, Johnny decided to continue.

"Well, if it were to happen one day," he says. "Where one of yous died before the other and not at the same time, what would you do? What do you think each of you would want each other to do?"

There was a momentary pause, an exchange of glances, and a brief puff of smoke released from each of their breaths before either of the other two men spoke.

"Well, that's a tough question y'got there, Johnny," says One Two. "But I'll admit, not one I haven't thought of before."

Johnny nods. "Go on."

"You and I both know that I've got a few years on Bob here, though not by much. An' I suppose that the natural order would be that I go first," says One Two. "An' I'll admit, the thought of leavin' Bob here behind isn't somethin' I like to be thinkin' about. But when it comes down to it, if it has to be, then it has to be."

Johnny lets a stream of smoke out through his nose. "Yer missin' my point here, One Two. I mean, what would you want 'im to do about it once you're gone?"

This causes One Two to frown in confusion. "What I want him to do about it? What do you mean what I want him to do about it?"

"He would keep on livin'," Handsome Bob says quietly then, a stream of smoke flowing from his nose and lips. He puts his cigarette out on the wall beside him before throwing the cigarette stub onto the ground, the first to finish.

"He'll keep on livin' until his time runs out, and he'll do it because that's what I would want him to do in that situation," he continues. "And I'd do the same if it was One Two before me, because I know that's what he would want too. Isn't that right, One Two?"

One Two blinks and then half-smiles. "Yeah, you've got it right, Bob."

"And I suspect Archy would have said he expected the same of you too, if you had asked him the same question. He'd want you to keep on livin', Johnny," Handsome Bob says, catching Johnny's eye. "Bet my life on it, in fact."

Johnny merely half-smiles in response; he knows it's true.

"Anyway, you'll have to forgive him, Johnny," Handsome Bob says with a tiny grin and a slight tilt of the head in One Two's direction. "He's not very good at picking up on things."

Johnny can't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Sure thing, Bob."

"I would have too!" One Two insists.

"Maybe if someone said it just outright, One Two," says Handsome Bob. "Like that one conversation we had years ago in that car, remember? You just understood everything right away before I spelled it out for you."

Johnny noted the sarcasm in that last sentence.

"That isn't fair, Bob," says One Two.

"Isn't it?" Handsome Bob quickly fires back, amusement clearly written all over his face.

"No, it isn't!"

Johnny doesn't understand the inside joke, but he chuckles and takes another drag from his almost-finished cigarette. He tries to ignore another pang of jealousy welling up in his chest as he absently continues to listen to the couple bicker; cheery bantering and being a nuisance had been two of Johnny's many favorite pastimes with Archy. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sensation of smoke filling his lungs and escaping through his mouth and nostrils.

A few years down the road, Handsome Bob will lose his life after taking a bullet for One Two from a pistol owned by some amateur upstart who's trying to start his own gang—a sign that the old way of doing things is quickly disappearing—and One Two will be reminded of this conversation with Johnny and know for sure what Handsome Bob would want him to do next in that moment. Whereas right now, Johnny does not know, since he has never had the opportunity to have this conversation with Archy because it had never once crossed their minds. Or maybe it had crossed their minds and they had just avoided it altogether, which is why Johnny is now left mulling over such thoughts and questions. Regardless, in a few years, One Two will find himself conflicting between feeling sad and feeling grateful from having had this particular conversation, though for right now it is nothing more than mere speculation; just small talk fit for a sombre occasion.

The honking of a car draws their attention away from the dark conversation and Johnny takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it down on the ground and putting it out with his shoe. He recognizes who it is.

The person waiting in the classic black mustang with the tinted windows is his ride, and his name is Turbine. Turbo's son. Good ol' Turbo, who had already passed on long before Archy did. Turbine was just as loyal and just as reliable as his father had been.

Johnny turned to look back at One Two and Handsome Bob.

"Well," he says. "Looks like that's my ride, boys. I'd better see you two bright and early tomorrow mornin'."

"You got it, Johnny," says One Two.

"See you, Johnny," says Handsome Bob.

Johnny strolls over to the car where Turbine is waiting and gives him a slight nod in appreciation when the man opens the door for him and he slides into the backseat of the car. Turbine shuts the door behind him and then returns to the driver's seat and fastens his seat belt before starting the car; Johnny remains unbuckled, Archy had never been one for seat belts either.

"_You work with the cards you're dealt," _Archy had told him once. _"If death knocks on your door, then so be it, the fact that everyone dies someday is common knowledge anyhow. No one avoids it, but preventing it is a sign of weakness, you understand that, Johnny?"_

Archy had made clear to Johnny his point. That's why Archy never wore a seat belt. That's why Johnny never wore his seat belt either.

"_If you want to be a __real__ RocknRolla, Johnny, you can't let something as simple as death scare you. Y'do that, then it's over. No one will respect you. You've got to make 'em think you're fuckin' invincible. Manage that, and nothing can stop you, nothing except death, and like I said, death will come when it comes and there ain't no sense in worryin' about that."_

And Archy had been right, as far as Johnny could tell.

"All set then, Johnny?" Turbine asks, looking at Johnny from the rear view mirror. His voice breaks Johnny out of his thoughts.

"Yeh," says Johnny. "Take me to the house."

"You've got it," says Turbine, and they're on their way.

Johnny does his best to distract himself from thoughts of Archy, and his hand absently travels inside his jacket and slightly under his shirt, where his gun is holstered, or rather, where he had Archy's old gun holstered. He pulls out the classic silver magnum revolver and fingers it idly.

His mind begins to wander and ventures into morbid thoughts—Johnny momentarily daydreams of lifting the gun to his temple and pulling the trigger, right here in this car and he doesn't really much consider how Turbine would feel about that. After all, Turbine is just a driver and doesn't have much say as to what Johnny should or shouldn't do, as far as Johnny is concerned. No, that isn't what stops him. What stops him are Archy's words. _You deal with the cards you're dealt._ And Handsome Bob's. _He'd want you to keep on livin', Johnny._

And Johnny knows. He's frustrated, but he knows, so he slides the gun back into its proper place and lights up another few cigarettes and chain smokes the rest of the ride home. When he finally makes it there, Johnny steps out, thanks Turbine for the ride, and heads straight to the room that he and Archy had been sharing together until only just recently. He goes to the closet and sifts through the clothes, pulling out one of Archy's dress shirts and a pair of long john's. It's summer, but Johnny doesn't much care and changes out of what he's wearing to put on these clothes, because the only thing on his mind is the fact that he's already started to forget Archy's scent and even the sound of Archy's voice. Vision blurring with tears that he can't stop from streaming down his cheeks, Johnny stumbles to the bed and falls face first onto the pillows that Archy used to sleep on, sobbing uncontrollably into them. He remains like this, alone and crying for several hours before drifting off into sleep.

In Johnny's dreams, there's only Archy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next few chapters revisit the film's original plot, just my take on everything, but I hope it'll be a fresh enough spin on things where it won't seem dry and redundant. Also, please let me know what you think as the chapters progress and let me know if you feel the whole writing in different perspectives/angles is working or not working, as I think that feedback would be most helpful while writing this, since I am writing this for all of you to enjoy. Next chapter is on its way to being completed, and should be up fairly soon. Look forward to seeing you all again!


	3. II: When Archy First Met Johnny

**Author's Note: **I can't seem to tell if people like or hate this fiction, which is why I find that I am extremely grateful for the story stat counter they've created on this site—a new addition since I've last logged in on my old pseudonym. Even though I haven't received any feedback, I find it encouraging enough that people seem to be giving this fiction a chance and moving on to the next chapter, and I can only hope that this chapter finds you all well also.

This particular chapter was really difficult for me to hash out, mostly because I'm trying to write in third person, but as more of a flashback than happening in real time. Again, this chapter is still pretty AU, though it has some hints trickling in here and there of the original storyline. The next chapter after this one will be the last AU-heavy toned chapter before I start connecting it to my take on the original _RocknRolla_ storyline. Please enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

><p><strong>When Archy First Met Johnny...<strong>

Archy was one year shy of thirty when he had first met four-year-old Johnny.

Archy hated children.

He couldn't stand when they sniveled and cried, when they whimpered and whined, and he wanted to absolutely kill them when they kicked, screamed, fussed around, or caused trouble. This was because, you see, Archy had never grown up in a household filled with affection and comfort. When Archy's wealthy parents died in a car crash, like it was out of some storybook cliché, the people who were supposed to be taking care of him did better than turn him into a commoner slave of his own household like Cinderella—they just simply threw him out onto the streets. Of course, this was only after they had swindled him of all his inheritance and divided it amongst themselves.

Archy was fifteen years old when he had lost everything, and just as well, because life had been a prison for him even when his parents were alive. His childhood had consisted mostly of activities that had bored Archy to no end, like ballroom dances and classes on etiquette. So while Archy may have been left penniless, he hadn't spent too much time grieving because for the first time in his life he was free. In fact, he had initially been so drunk on his freedom that he hadn't quite known what to do with himself.

Then Archy had met Lenny.

Lenny Cole had picked Archy up from the streets just a short while after Archy's initial high had worn off and the feelings of hunger and exhaustion were beginning to take its toll, and despite his circumstances there had been no fear in Archy's eyes. It was the lack of fear that inspired Lenny to take Archy under his wing in the first place. Lenny had been generous enough to clothe him, provide him a warm bed, and teach him all the basics about living on the streets. Though Lenny had trained Archy to be his right hand man it would later be clear to everyone but Lenny that the real puppet master pulling the strings was Archy and not Lenny Cole. For that accomplishment Archy would have to give some of the credit to the education his parents had forced down his throat through tutors when he was just a lad. Without that he would have never reached his full potential with Lenny.

It never bothered Archy in the slightest that Lenny continued to think that he was the one in control and the one calling all the shots, even long after Archy had Lenny in the palm of his hand and could have easily taken over. This was because it had made things much easier for Archy as he always did prefer working behind the scenes. He would later note that being the frontrunner of a production actually seemed to run more in the veins of the likes of Lenny as well as his son, or _stepson_, more like.

Which brings the story back to the start. The part where Archy hated children.

When Archy first met Johnny, it had been a sort of a sudden encounter, though Archy hadn't minded much then, because that was when Johnny's mom had still been around. That meant Archy hadn't had much to do with the little tyke, suiting Archy perfectly.

The problem came only after Johnny's mom had left the picture.

Everything started when Lenny Cole had felt that he was experiencing something of a mid-life crisis moment; this led to his impulse decision to settle down. The very notion was far beyond Archy's comprehension, because Archy could never picture Lenny being able to maintain any sort of functional relationship. Archy was further baffled upon first meeting the new Mrs. Cole, who had come across as soft-spoken and sweet.

Archy hadn't been surprised for long.

As he had predicted, the situation quickly turned sour shortly after the two had gotten married and decided to live together. That was when Lenny discovered that Mrs. Cole had been hiding a little secret—and Lenny Cole didn't care much for secrets.

Enter Johnny. Little Johnny, who was about four years old at the time, who one day had finally gotten tired of listening to his mother. So instead of hiding in the attic quietly like a good boy, he had decided to bound out into the living room with quite a ruckus. Of course, Lenny wouldn't have it. He had hardly even given Johnny's mother a second to explain before he was out the door, cursing up a storm, with Archy following a few steps behind him.

Years down the road, Archy would tell Johnny that if he hadn't had the sudden urge to take a glance over his shoulder to look back at Johnny and his mother, then that day may have been the end of it. Johnny's mother would have probably nursed her broken heart back together, found some other sorry type to get married to only for that one to eventually leave her too, and Johnny may have had some sort of semblance of an ordinary life, as dysfunctional as that would have been.

But Archy had looked back.

And when Archy had looked back, he had the image of little Johnny's face forever burned into his memory; the cheeky little face of a brat who was no stranger to trouble, but who seemed smart enough to know when even he had tripped the wrong wire. Archy had known then, though perhaps not consciously, that there was something more to this kid than any other child that Archy had ever come across. So that was why when Lenny had finally calmed down and was in more of a listening mood that Archy had subtly suggested the benefit of keeping the mother and Johnny around. It was a business proposition, and Lenny lived and breathed business. Archy's reasoning had been this: Lenny would have his arm candy and would also be able to pass on his legacy to Johnny and through him be remembered for generations to come—one of the great benefits of having a son.

It had been all cut and dry, plain and simple, and Archy always did love simple solutions to his problems. Unfortunately, nothing was ever simple as far as Johnny was concerned.

Archy had learned that soon enough.

The next time Archy had met Johnny it was in the middle of a lukewarm summer, and Archy was to take care of seven-year-old Johnny. This was a result of Johnny having gone and done something to piss Lenny off, and consequently Archy was then given the responsibility to "take care of the boy." This would develop into a familiar theme for Archy for the remainder of his career, as Lenny would never want anything to do with Johnny. And although Archy hated children, his hate would always be unparalleled to Lenny's, which is why he would always get stuck with Johnny because he at least had the ability to practice tolerance when necessary, a quality that Lenny severely lacked.

That same trait of tolerance was why Archy had stood by the car on a hot summer's day, waiting for Johnny to be chased out of the house by Lenny. This too would eventually become part of their usual routine, although at the time Archy had thought that that moment was the first and last time he would ever have to discipline the boy. The plan was for Archy to set the boy straight and return him to Lenny with the guarantee that there would be no more problems and no more mischief, and that neither he nor Lenny would have to deal with Johnny again.

At the time, Archy had no idea as to how greatly he had miscalculated.

When Johnny had come out of the house he had been dressed in shorts, a tee-shirt, and sneakers. His little eyes had met Archy's cold, steel ones and for a moment the two had stood there, frozen, as if neither were quite sure what to do at first. The first thing Archy had noted was how big Johnny had gotten in the three years since he had last seen him. Archy did not hesitate long, however, and he quickly composed himself soon after making his observation. He then opened the door to the backseat of the car and leaned slightly forward, cocking his head to the left as he told little Johnny to get in the car. The boy had complied without much argument, slightly surprising Archy, especially with all the stories Lenny had told him about how much of a terror the little boy was.

Once Johnny was buckled in, Archy got into the driver's seat and started the car. He looked at Johnny through the rear view mirror.

"You know why you're here, don't you?" he asked.

Johnny didn't move a muscle or say a word; he just stared back at Archy. Archy frowned.

"Well I'm not about to play games with you, boy, but I'm a tell you what all this is because I know it must be something foreign to you, and I don't want to waste our time on a starin' contest," Archy said, short and clipped. "You're here because you've been causin' trouble for Lenny, and I'm to set you straight. You understand?"

"Uncle Archy..." the boy said suddenly in such a soft voice that Archy had almost missed it.

Archy looked up at Johnny briefly in the rear view, momentarily confused. His eyes flitted back to the road quickly.

"What was that y'said?" Archy asked.

"S'what I 'eard yer name was," little Johnny said in a drawl that Archy would become familiar with in years to come. "They told me that yous was my Uncle Archy."

The tiny muscles at the edge of one of Archy's eyes twitched slightly and Archy felt a headache coming on.

"Is that so..." he said.

"It's a fact," Johnny had quickly responded back.

"Now don't be cheeky..." Archy warned, and he couldn't help but smirk a little when he saw Johnny go tight-lipped in the rear view mirror.

The rest of the ride was mostly peaceful; the boy was no longer making a fuss and it almost seemed as if he had resigned to his fate. However, at one particular intersection, Archy made a last minute decision to go left and not right. Instead of taking Johnny to Lenny's warehouse in order to shake the boy up a little, Archy decided to go and take the boy into the countryside, eventually parking the car in the middle of some field, the area deserted for what seemed to be miles around. Only a lake and a lake house could be seen from the car. The house was uninhabited and in fact it was Archy's old lake house, or rather, it was a lake house that had used to belong to his parents. It was a property that Archy had recovered several years ago, along with several other properties, from the very people who had stolen it from him—though it may have cost them a limb or two.

Once settled, Archy had shut off the engine and turned in his seat to look back at Johnny, one wrist resting on the steering wheel and his other forearm on the compartment beside him.

"Right. Now, out the car we go, c'mon," Archy said, tilting his head slightly to one side.

It had taken all of Archy's strength not to laugh at the look of pure fear on the boy's face. He could have only imagined what thoughts were probably floating about in Johnny's mind. He managed to suppress a smile.

"No? Well all right then," Archy said. "You can stay here or you could try to run away, but let me make somethin' clear to you now boy, there ain't a patch o' civilization around here for miles."

Johnny hadn't so much as blinked, though Archy knew the wheels in the boy's mind were turning; he had seen it in the boy's eyes. Archy allowed himself a small half-smile.

"Still no?" Archy said. "Well, you're making yourself one hell of a mistake, but I'll tell you what. We can do this your way. As far as I'm concerned, I've got all day, and since we're out someplace nice, I think I'm going to have myself a bit of a vacation while we're here. You are welcome to stay in the car, but if you're smart you will eventually realize that it will do you no good."

Archy continued to speak as he turned back around, patting himself down to make sure he had everything and taking the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them.

"If it so happens that you come to change your mind, all you need to do is make your way down from that slope over there, and at the end of it, there you will find me."

With that last statement, Archy had stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him, leaving behind Johnny and never once looking back. He then made his way to the lake house and went inside. He had come out a few minutes later with a glass of ice water and a book, and made his way to a chair that was under a parasol and facing the lake, something that Archy had set up a while ago on one of the rare days Lenny had let him take off. He then took a seat and placed the glass on a very skinny and small table placed next to the chair before opening his book. He hadn't gotten too heavily involved with his reading, however, because he was occasionally checking his watch to keep track of how much time passed. Though Archy didn't care much for children, he wasn't entirely heartless and wasn't planning on letting the child die from a heat stroke. He grew slightly concerned after about forty-five minutes and was contemplating getting up from his seat to check up on the boy when he heard a little voice quip from a mile away.

"Uncle Archy!"

Archy had shut the book he was holding and a small smile formed on his face. He put the book down on the chair and got up, turning in the direction of the voice. He saw Johnny standing just a few feet away, half his body hidden by the tall and golden stalks of wheat. Uncertainty was clearly written on little Johnny's face, thus leading Archy to decide to take a softer approach with the boy. He took a small step forward, spreading his arms open wide in a gesture that would seem familiar to Johnny years from now, as well as the words that follow it.

"Come on, give us a cuddle."

And that's all it took. Almost instantly, a huge smile had spread across Johnny's face and the child appeared to glow with delight as he ran down the incline and through the field into Archy's arms, which had relaxed along with the man's overall posture. He had been somewhat taken aback with surprise at the innocence radiating from the child. His expression softened as he looked down at Johnny's head burying itself in his waist. After a few seconds, Archy decided to lift the boy off the ground and hold him to his chest. This second gesture caused Johnny to burst out into peals of laughter as he threw his arms around Archy's neck, burying his face in the older man's neck. At that moment Archy had found himself wondering if anyone had ever held the boy like this, and he's absolutely sure that Lenny hasn't.

It is in this moment Archy had experienced a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, and he wouldn't learn until much later that the feeling he had experienced was called affection. All Archy knew was that Johnny had started to become something special to him, and he made a silent vow just then to do his utmost to protect the child. There was a sort of paternal love and protectiveness that Johnny brought out of Archy, and those feelings were the foundation of the relationship that would forge between the pair in years to come.

When Johnny had finally calmed down, Archy tried to get the boys attention and tugged gently at the back of the boy's collar with one hand while still holding the boy to him with his other arm. Johnny had pressed a hand against Archy's chest so that he could push himself back to look at him. He had looked at Archy curiously. Archy's lips had formed into a faint smile.

"I've an idea for you," he said. "Would y'like t'hear it?"

Johnny had nodded without hesitation. Archy chuckled.

"Well then, what d'you think about the two of us makin' a little tug boat and watchin' it float on the water over there?" Archy said and tilted his head to the side in the direction of the lake.

Johnny had taken a brief glance toward the direction of the lake before looking back at Archy and nodding, giving the older man a winning smile. That same smile was the one Archy would recognize immediately upon seeing it again years later, and would still be recognizable even during the years where Johnny just looks pathetic, withdrawn, and malnourished, side effects of his irresponsible lifestyle. At that moment though, it had been Archy's first time witnessing it and it caused him to shake his head in amusement because he couldn't believe how Johnny could manage to be cheeky even in his expressions.

Archy had carried Johnny into the lake house and found them some paper and a bit of string—Archy helped Johnny fold the paper into a little boat and made a hole for him on one end so that they could tie in the bit of string. The two then went back outside to the lake and Archy taught Johnny how to cast the boat onto the water and how to keep a hold of the string so that he could bring the boat back once it started trying to float away.

Johnny had gotten down on his hands and knees, and frowned slightly as he kept his eyes focused in deep concentration on the paper boat floating on the water. The weather was perfect; the sun had been peeking through the clouds and the lighting was just right. Archy had lain on his side next to Johnny, head resting on one of his hands where the arm was propped up at the elbow, while his other hand rested on the ground. He was mostly watching Johnny, who had seemed almost like an angel the way the sun had hit the boy's head and given him a bit of a halo. Archy had occasionally taken a glance at the water, however, just to check on the status of the paper boat.

They had remained like that for a while in peaceful silence. It wasn't until the boat shriveled and sank that Archy decided it's time for them to go home, and the two of them headed back to the car. The car ride back to the Cole residence was mostly quiet until sometime during the last stretch, when Johnny asked a question.

"So does this mean every time I get in trouble, you'll be the one that gets to take care of me, Uncle Arch?"

Archy's eyes had momentarily flitted to the rear view mirror before he had returned his attention back to the road.

"I suppose so," he had said without giving it too much thought—as it was the most Lenny-inspired logical answer—but this was where Archy had made his first and hugest mistake with Johnny.

"But don't you go off an' startin' trouble now, you understand?" Archy added, but unfortunately by then it was already too little too late. The cogs in Johnny's brain had once again been set into motion, and from that particular moment on, Johnny's had himself a lifelong mission.

"Sure thing, Uncle Arch," he said.

Johnny had grinned then, and had Archy seen it, he would have known right away that some disciplinary action needed to be taken. Unfortunately, Archy had been too busy concentrating on driving because they had come to a four way intersection and Archy had had to make sure they wouldn't miss their turn.

When they had arrived in front of Johnny's house, Archy parked the car, turned around in his seat, and warned Johnny not to look as if he had had a good time in front of Lenny. The warning was probably a waste of breath on Archy's part because Johnny was smarter than Archy realized at the time. He even surprised Archy by easily playing the part of a wounded spirit in front of Lenny. Archy watched Johnny as he disappeared into the house looking like a wounded puppy and barely registered the fact that Lenny had given him a pat on the back, telling him a job well done.

A routine then developed over the next few years and Archy found that he was constantly being sent to run after Johnny simply because Lenny didn't want anything to do with the boy, not to mention everything always seemed to calm down for a short period of time after Archy had successfully dealt with Johnny. Peace would only last for a moment, however, before the cycle would begin again and Johnny was out causing more trouble. Over time, Archy started to notice that the situations that Johnny would get into or create got larger in severity, and that it progressively became more difficult to discipline the boy. All the while Archy didn't know that there was an intentional reason behind all this until many years later. Quite a few years from now, when Johnny is much older and the nature of their relationship has changed somewhat, Johnny will tell Archy that he only became more daring in his actions in order to keep the older man's attention for longer periods of time. While all the pieces of the puzzle would eventually fit and make sense to Archy, for the time being he would end every other week with a serious need for a drink to relieve him of his stress and a couple pills to take care of his pounding headache.

The most significant meeting between Archy and Johnny occurred just after Johnny's mother had passed away. The poor woman had finally reached her limit, having been driven mad by Lenny's callousness. Just a few months after Johnny's fifteenth birthday she had gone away, committing herself to some psychiatric institution. She had left behind Johnny without so much as an explanation. A few weeks later a letter had come to Lenny, which he had Archy read aloud to him because Lenny had been too lazy to read it himself, that stated she had overdosed on some sleeping pills and that her lifeless body had been found in a filled bathtub with water that had been stained red with the slits she had made on her wrists with a razor blade.

Archy would later remember finding it ironic, while only half-listening to Lenny as he ranted and raved about his plans of sending the boy to some rich kid's boarding school, how he had lost his own parents at about the same age and felt a strange sense of affinity with Johnny just then. So while he was waiting outside by the car waiting for Lenny to yet again chase Johnny out of the house so that he could escort him to school, Archy had come to one conclusion. He had decided that while his unfavorable opinion of children hadn't much changed over the years, he had decided that he could make an exception for Johnny, even if that meant going against his core values. Except that Archy didn't much take to the idea of his own going back on his own values, so he had decided to make a compromise within himself instead. It was okay for him to like Johnny, only because Johnny was no longer a boy but a young man.

How's that, one might wonder.

Well, it was simple, because Archy figured that there was no way you could still be a boy if you didn't have parents. And as far as Lenny was concerned, Archy didn't even consider him as a father to Johnny, and he knew for a fact that Johnny didn't either.

Later on, Archy would suppose that he was at least partially responsible for that.

The car ride had been long and mostly uneventful. Johnny wasn't talking much and that had concerned Archy for a number of reasons. For starters, there was usually never a moment where Johnny wasn't running his mouth. So the fact that Johnny was all sullen and withdrawn in the backseat had bothered Archy, because Archy couldn't tell if Johnny didn't want to talk because of the painful looking bruise on his cheek—a parting gift from Lenny—if it was because he had just lost his mother, a combination of the two, or something else entirely. What had bothered Archy even further was the fact that as Johnny was getting older, he could no longer seem to know by instinct what in the world the boy was thinking, and that was probably the thing that was most disconcerting to the older man. The boy had been slowly growing on him over the years, and the last thing Archy wanted was for there to be a distance to grow between them, but he was becoming less certain that was something he could stop.

They reached their destination within several hours and after Archy had put the car in park, Johnny spoke.

"I don't want to go to school, Uncle Arch."

Archy had allowed a small sigh to escape past his lips before he turned around to look at Johnny.

"Your father—"

"He's _not _my father, Uncle Arch, and you know that. Not my proper father, anyway," Johnny had said to him darkly. "Hell, _you've _been more o' a father than he's ever been anyhow."

Archy had suppressed the urge to swell with pride at Johnny's last statement and maintained his cool composure.

"All right, Lenny then. You know what I mean," he said. "Now Lenny's made a bit of an investment on you by sending you to this school, and I'm to see to it that you attend. And you will attend. Do I make myself clear?"

"As the piercing shriek of a whistle," Johnny replied. "But Uncle Archy, I'd much rather just work with you. Can't I? Won't you talk to my old man about it? I'll be really good, I promise!"

"No," Archy had said while shaking his head. "That is absolutely out of the question."

"Well why the hell not?" Johnny had asked stubbornly.

"Because as much as you think I love runnin' around after you day in and day out, last I checked babysittin' was not supposed to be part of my job description," said Archy. "And while you may not be aware of it, I am a rather busy man. Besides, I don't quite trust you to handle a gun properly."

"I could learn, Uncle Arch!" Archy had said, voice with earnest. "If you let me work directly for you, I promise I won't be causin' any more trouble. I'd much rather do what you do than go to school."

Archy's lips had tensed and formed a thin line, amusement written nowhere on his face.

"No," he had said firmly to Johnny. "You are going to be good, attend this school that you and I both know was extremely generous for Lenny to even send you to in the first place, get yourself a nice education, and when the year is up I will be back here again to come and get you. Do you understand?"

"But Uncle Arch!" Johnny protested. "I promise I won't—"

"You may keep your promises for a short while, but they never last, John," Archy said to him. "And I have gotten rather tired of your empty promises, so you are going to attend this school whether you like it or not and stay out of trouble. Now is that clear?"

Johnny had looked as if he were about to say something else, but instead resorted to just nodding his head, shoulders slumped. Archy had frowned at him.

"Well, am I going to get a proper answer to my question?" he asked.

"Yes, you were clear, Uncle Arch. Crystal," Johnny had said with bitterness and disappointment evident in his tone. "I understand."

"Good. An' I don't want to hear anythin' more about you trying to get into your father's business, not while you still 'ave a chance at a proper life," Archy had said while cocking his head in the direction of the school. "Now c'mon. Out you get."

Obediently but reluctantly, Johnny had gotten out of the car. He turned around to look at Archy after he'd only taken a couple of steps toward the school building.

"Y'know, it's not too late for you to change your mind, Uncle Arch," he said. "It's not Lenny I'm wantin' to work with, you know, it's you."

"Doesn't matter, Johnny," Archy had said, shaking his head. "You're not going to grow up to be anythin' short of proper, not on my watch."

"A'right, but you're goin' t'regret it later, Uncle Arch," Johnny had said back to him. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

Archy had shaken his head while he watched Johnny run off and had held out very little hope that the school would do any better at the job of straightening the little devil out. Once Johnny was out of sight, Archy had gotten back into his car and driven back to where he came from, where he would go back to working for Lenny without either of them having to deal with Johnny for the next year. It didn't mean that Archy forgot about Johnny though; he never stopped thinking about the boy all the time, wondering if he was doing well in school or at least having a good time. He hadn't worried too much though, because Archy knew Johnny and knew him well; he didn't doubt that Johnny was fine.

Years later though, Archy will look back on his memories and realize that he should have known better than to try—in the end Johnny always got his way, and it didn't matter how hard Archy would try to make it otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, I hope you all enjoyed that. This chapter turned out much longer than all the others so far, I think. Nine pages, whereas most of the other chapters I've written so far totaled to be no more than about five or six. Hopefully I didn't kill you all with all of this text! I've already started to work on the next chapter, and it should be done in about a couple days, so stay tuned for that and see you then!


End file.
